


Nonetheless

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Bantering, Canon Era, Established Relationship, Hamilton's Lee, Kissing, M/M, Sex with healing wounds is difficult, Sexual Content, Smut, Turn's Ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9566567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: Benedict gets what he wants, injured leg or not. Charles doesn't have it in him to object.





	

**Author's Note:**

> good shit sign me up for this rarest of pairs

The hour was very late by the time Charles managed to find himself in Benedict’s tent, war-weary and content to just nestle into Arnold’s chest. There was a single candle burning upon Benedict’s desk, and it lit the tent just enough for Lee to make out that the lines of Benedict’s face had become more pronounced.

Benedict was familiar beside him, an arm draped over his waist, and Charles felt at home. The two generals slotted together nicely, he thought, and as he nuzzled under Arnold’s jaw, the taller of them tugged him closer. For a while, they just lay together, tension from the day seeping into the cool night air and out of them.

Eventually, Arnold stirred a little, shifting Charles in his arms, and kissed him. Charles returned the sentiment with lazy fervor, hands sliding up his chest to wind into his long, unruly hair. Benedict grazed his teeth along Charles’ bottom lip, and Charles opened under him, legs falling apart as Arnold settled between them, atop the smaller man.

Arnold’s weight was a little more solid than Charles remembered. The realization sparked in him, and he pulled free of the kiss. “Your leg.” He stated, and Benedict tilted his jaw up to nip along the column of his neck.

When his comment went ignored, Charles said, “Benedict.”

Arnold grunted.

“Benedict, your-”

“I don’t give a damn.” Arnold’s voice had dropped a few octaves, and all of a sudden, Charles was all too aware of the familiar hardness against his hip.

As heat flooded through him, Benedict latching onto his pulsepoint and sucking up a mark there, he tried again, weakly. “Benny.”

“ _Want_ you.”

Charles shivered, his grip tightening minutely in Benedict’s hair. “Oh.”

It took him a moment to gather himself, but when he did, he unraveled his hands from Arnold’s hair and pressed at his shoulders until the other sat up, looking irked. “I said I don’t care.” Benedict growled, and Charles hushed him with a kiss, pushing him until Arnold lay back compliantly and Charles could straddle his hips.

Arnold’s hands found Lee’s waist and formed a hard grip there, as if he were afraid that if he let go, Charles would flee. Charles bowed to kiss him again, making sure to settle in a way that wouldn’t aggravate the recently-healed wound Arnold’s thigh sported. Benedict met him halfway, one of his hands slipping under the hem of Lee’s shirt to smooth his fingers over the pink skin of his freshly healed bullet wound scar.

Charles shuddered atop Arnold and paused briefly, freeing himself of the kiss to look Benedict in the eyes. The taller of them met his gaze, fire in his own eyes, and clenched his jaw a little. Lee smiled faintly, and Arnold drew him back into the kiss, fierce as always. Injury or not, Arnold would always have his ways of getting what he wanted.


End file.
